my ninth

Perhaps because this was a reunion event for the 50 States Club, I saw more Marathon Maniacs on the course than in any other race.

The weather was perfect. We took the start at 5:30 am and the sun did not come up until mile 23. I felt good, ran all the way through, barely slowing down for water a few times. Had trouble "fueling," but my lover brought me a Starbucks Frappucino at the midway point, and I could swallow that. Going by the comments on the course, if he had opened up a little delivery business for the day he would have been profitable.

It was a smooth affair, steady and uneventful until the end. My hips and thighs hurt as badly as if clamped in a vise, but I did not care much, I only had one or two miles left to go, and I was not about to slow down at this point. I only wished I could run faster.

I hurried across a street where a policeman held up traffic for me to pass. I had not reached the opposite sidewalk yet, when it happened. The pain in the hips vanished, as if someone had physically taken it away. Unshackled, I bolted loose.

I have sprinted toward the finish before, but not like this. This was long, strong, sustained, and almost effortless. I could read it in the reactions of the bystanders. It did not look like an end run, strained. It was fresh and fast and calm.

I could see the finish when I felt the nausea coming up. I asked whatever force had freed me from pain to give me 30 seconds: oh, give me another 30 seconds.

It did. I felt horribly sick after the finish line, but obviously it did not matter anymore. I did not throw up, but I spent the next few hours shaky and ready to do it.

Finished under five hours, which is fast for me. But I still wonder who ran my first, Shiprock 2007, in so much less than that.

tomorrow

I had a bad running week - I was exhausted, my ankles hurt, my right side was tight, I got dizzy a couple of times, and a muscle knot in my back felt as if I had a coin stuck between my ribs. Worst of all, after a cumbersome 5K in the morning the notion of running 26 miles - voluntarily - seemed totally insane.

Somehow this all went away - well, the muscle knot is still there, but it doesn't count. I will run a marathon tomorrow, and someone inside me is elated and wants to break out in song. I will run a marathon tomorrow, and someone inside me wants to go dancing on the sidewalk.

I will run the marathon that outlines the city from south to north, from east to west - and this is a love song I am singing.

what i did this summer

17 miles last Sunday, 13 tomorrow, and then comes the race.

I started running again at the end of May, with 0.7 cumbersome miles. Now it's the end of August and in a week I will run a marathon. I do not know where the summer went, but it was marked by this steady expansion of mileage and willpower.

At the beginning I still had moments when I wondered who this girl was, moving ahead, pounding the ground, running. Now I do not ask anymore. Somehow during this time I made running my own. It's not that I really enjoy it - it's still best when it's over. It's not that I ever come close to looking forward to it, except for that occasional small shift in perception just before taking off that signals I am ready. But running has become part of who I am, something that defines me.

And probably always will, no matter what I do after this race. In the meantime, I am running this marathon for my new love. Not sure what this means aside from the fact that, running or crawling, broken or whole, dead or alive, I will finish it.

the biggest big run

I used to run the longest pre-race run two weeks before the marathon. This time I decided on three weeks, not sure why, perhaps to make it easier for myself toward the end. To make up for the indulgence last Sunday I ran 23 instead of the 20 miles I initially had in mind.

The heat got too be too much like always, the trail mix that had worked fine the week before was a nuisance now, and I did not have enough water with me, so I got totally dehydrated. But it was smooth and steady again, and reasonably fast.

I would have called it uneventful, except I had cramps during the last three miles or so. That never happened to me before, and all I knew to do was to take a walking break until it subsided. Then I learned to stop running as soon as I felt them coming on, and one way or another I finished the planned 23. I was so out of it that I did not remember until later, with some help for a friend, that a common cause for cramps is loss of salt. I had big white rings on my running top when I got home.

Still - it was one of the best long runs I ever had.

the perfect run

I ran another little 5K race on a Sunday, interrupting the string of long runs. A week later I decided on 16 miles, thinking it was necessary to do more than a half marathon but wiser not to attempt too much after the gap.

It turned out to be the perfect run, or at least as close to that as I ever get. Smooth, steady and fast, it took a half hour less than my average time on that distance. I ended up doing 16.5, out of sheer momentum. I "fueled" and did not get sick from it, as it usually happens. It got hot, but the heat didn't affect me. Much more important, I ran in the present, never ahead of myself, never wanting it to be over. I stayed with it, step by step, each and every moment.

It was over in no time.

two in a row

At the 5K I ran the other week-end my lover played with my camera and enjoyed himself, so I decided to give him another go. Not wanting to interrupt the string of big runs again, I picked a little race on Saturday night - the inaugural Nob Hill run on former Route 66. It did not seem wise to do a race (even if only a 5K) less than twelve hours before a long run, but if it made the long run more difficult that would be good training.

It looked like a "let's have fun in Nob Hill" kind of race. The street was closed off, the music was playing, the mood was high. I wore the dark pink technical shirt I had won in a drawing at the last race. Even though I hate pink with a vengeance, I thought it would be good to try something new. I have not run before at night, or seen so many restaurants in a race before. It smelled of steak up and down the course. I did not have a good race. I walked a few times. I never walked in a 5K before. Felt lousy about it too.

In the end, I shook the feeling off. The race did not matter. What counted was the big run next day. We had ice cream and peaches that night. Next morning I ran eighteen miles, heat and tense muscles and all, and was content.

i know

The lesions on my skin are healing so slowly I sometimes doubt my doctor has the right diagnosis - lead toxicity, of which skin marks are not a typical symptom anyhow. On the other hand, they are definitely fading, so so maybe the stuff he gave me to take works after all. It's not only the skin that improves, it's the running too.

One week after the little 5K I ran fourteen miles, and it was the easiest big run ever, if one can even call it big. The legs did not feel the distance until around mile ten, and the rest was relatively effortless. It makes me wonder if I have run my eight marathons a year or two ago lugging around all that heavy metal. My doctor says yeah, that's what happened.

I told myself I have to be up to a half on any given day to run a marathon again. I am not there yet. On some days even a 5K gives me trouble. Even an entirely smooth big run comes with the overpowering sensation that one more step beyond it would be too big a stretch. But I know I will outrun that sensation. I know I will run a marathon.